|
|
Child Brides of India
By C. Stanley Leman
Introduction
I'm a new author posting my first story, and this is
the first piece of fiction that I've written since
college. If you're looking for a quick stroke story,
look elsewhere. For my first attempt, I'd like to
concentrate on the development of the characters and
their motives, and it starts out very slow. This story
contains elements of "legalized" consensual sexual
contact between adults and prepubescent/pubescent
partners, as one of the main talking points of my
story: can a child/young teen reasonably give consent
even if understanding and care is given to obtain it,
and what of the motives of the adult(s) in question?
I've tried to write a story where love, cultures,
customs, religion, and laws both secular and religious
are the catalyst and moving factors. Add to the mix,
the parties own insecurities, need for love, and
circumstances, I hope, make for an interesting story.
Although the main character is Muslim, I am not.
Therefore I've done extensive research on Muslim
customs, prayers, ceremonies as well as Islamic laws
mentioned or discussed within for this story. However,
not being infallible, a mistake or two may have
possibly been made. It must also be noted that various
sects, denominations, and regions have slightly
different interpretations and practices also. If I
have erred in these areas, it's not my intention to
offend anyone but purely an unintentional mistake.
Many events in history, and some degree in people's
personal lives, can be motivated by adherence to
fervency of religious practice, or cultural customs,
and the internal struggle of character and ethics
within us while trying to confront and control the
demons each of us struggles with called desire and
lust. With justifications, 'reasons', and
rationalizations, sometimes we aren't even quite
certain ourselves what motivates us to do the things
we do.
This entire story is a figment of my imagination, and
is fictional. Any resemblance to anyone alive or dead
is purely co-incidental and unintentional.
I do not condone or advocate any acts contained
herein: it is an erotic fictional tale. They are
illegal in many countries. There is no excuse to abuse
a child or use a child for one's own needs or
fulfillment.
The story codes for this entire story haven't been
completely finalized, but are basically, slow, rom,
ped, cons, Mg, Mf, Mfg, gg, Mgg, oral, anal, ws, in
varying arrangements, but will be listed with each
chapter.
Any and all criticism can be sent to csleman (dot)
story (at) yahoo (dot) com. Drop me a line and give me
some feedback as to what you think: should I continue
or move on to something else?
I would really like to extend my gratitude and thanks
to Daibhidh and Uncle Sky for their editing help,
encouragement and support towards a new author!
Child Brides of India
By C. Stanley Leman
Chapter 1: Old Friends/New Horizons (set-up, no sex)
I guess my story begins while on my way home from
college. My name is Sean Michaels, I'm an academic
prodigy with a BE in computer engineering, an MBA in
international finance and a PhD in engineering systems
analysis all from Princeton. I am what many have
jokingly called "the kid with everything and nothing
to lose": looks, money and brains.
Now, at 18, I'm 6 feet tall, weigh about 190, with
medium blonde hair, blue eyes and a fit, cut physique.
I never really thought my looks to be personally
advantageous, although throughout high school and
college I was referred to as the "hunky kid geek".
Being born too smart for my own good, I was always
several years younger than my peers at school. I dated
occasionally, but nothing serious, not even a high
school romance. Well, that's not entirely true. I did
have one very close friendship that lasted a year,
with a girl named Marie. We parted when her father's
job transferred him to Paris. She was a fellow Mensa
student in high school. I was 15 and she was twelve,
and we were drawn to each other because we both felt
the pressure of being surrounded by peers that were
older and more socially adept. Our relationship was
one of close friendship that kindred spirits share
where we could talk of anything under the sun, seeing
most things with the same perspective, the same fears
and insecurities. I was attracted to her, but her
tender age (and my shyness) kept me from trying to
advance any intimate relationship further than holding
hands, a mutual hug, and an occasional kiss. It was
mostly a friendship of the heart in which we both
relied upon each other for emotional support and
understanding.
While in high school, girls my age were in middle
school, and high school girls liked upper classmen
that were jocks-with cars. Besides, ever since I
started public school, kids my age were far below my
academic and interest level. College was even worse.
College girls were dating men of twenty years and up
while I was just getting my driver's license: hard to
compete even for a genius. I was always the nice "boy"
that was asked to tutor and always "just a friend":
the kiss of death, I learned, for any guy regardless
of age.
Physically, I tried very hard to compensate for my age
by working out, swimming, golf, running track, and in
college rowed. Although I enjoyed the activities and
the results to my physique, they did little to enhance
my chances for any real relationship. As I once
overheard someone comment in the library, "…a man's
body, but still a kid." I did manage to get laid a few
times, so I guess you could say it wasn't ALL for
naught.
The last two (money and brains), were assets and gifts
I just had, and never made any apologies for having.
My father, John, was a wildcat computer engineer that
started his own private company during the DOT COM era
and struck gold. He had purchased 3000 shares of
Microsoft for me on its initial IPO to start my
portfolio, and now I'm worth a more than most people
make in a lifetime. I've never told anyone the extent
of my financial holdings, but people that know me,
know I'm affluent and being groomed for the corporate
world.
My mother, Joan, was an educator who gave up formal
teaching when I was born. She home schooled me until I
reached the age of 12, when she said that she felt
that she was failing me, holding me back from
achieving my "full potential." She felt I could easily
have entered high school much earlier. She also felt
it was time for me to meet other kids and acquire the
social skills I lacked with fellow students.
As for brains, I liked being smart, intelligent and
advanced: it was just the way I always was. Two years
for high school, two for my BA, one for my masters and
one for my PhD. I did however, have the insecurity of
feeling somewhat alienated from my surroundings and
social settings due to my age difference. I instead
embroiled myself in my studies to acquire the
necessary education and techniques required to assume
control of a portion, at first, then all of my
father's company when the time came, and continue on
to build my own empire.
Although my insecurities in personal relationships
with the opposite sex where there, I learned to be
very socially adept, tactful, and communicative- even
if only for survival in my surroundings with peers and
academics. Aside from girls, I was always in control
and appeared to be at ease in any setting.
I snapped out of my introspection when the cab came to
a stop at my front door. With all my credentials for
success in hand, I arrived home to a welcome-less,
empty family estate in Clarksville, Maryland, a
wealthy suburb of Washington, DC. I paid the cabbie,
gave him a generous tip, and walked through the front
door.
My parents (really, my Dad) didn't feel they needed to
be at my doctorate graduation because, as my dad put
it, "It's just fluff on a cupcake." Don't get me
wrong, as an only child, my parents love me dearly and
I them. They're in India right now where dad had moved
our manufacturing plant to New Delhi, making the
arrangements for me to begin taking over the plant as
senior VP of Operations.
Hauling my baggage up to my room, I dropped everything
on the floor, and flopped on the bed with a sigh of
relief thinking, "Boy, it's good to be home, even for
just a coupla' days." As I lazily stared at the
ceiling, it finally sank in that my life had reached a
major turning point.
The point being, now, I'm not fighting for grades,
class ranking and degrees any more, now it's all about
dollars, millions of dollars: my father's dollars, and
my dollars. It's now about the profit/loss statements,
P/E ratios, dividends, and NOI that are the standards
by which the financial world will judge me brutally.
The financial press has gotten an inkling of the move,
and had a quiet, watchful eye on the company (and me)
trying to decide if this will be a good move for the
company or simply a case of nepotism as usual.
Trying to lighten up my mood and prime myself into an
optimistic frame of mind for the future, I bounced off
the bed and headed to the kitchen to raid the 'frig.
"Hmmmm," I thought, looking around the empty
kitchen,
"I wonder where Abby is?" She's our housekeeper/maid
(more like my second mom). "Oh well, you're a big boy
now, you can certainly feed yourself," I muttered,
scolding myself.
Sitting at the breakfast bar with my PB & J's and a
glass of milk, I wondered, "What's India really like?"
I'd done my research about the financials and the
government corruption, but what of the people, the
culture(s) and language(s)?" Being a new convert to
Islam two years ago, I recalled reading that there is
still a lot of unspoken animosity between Muslims and
Hindus, with Muslims coming up short on the political
and economic end of things since Hindus are the more
predominate and therefore the ruling faction. I still
didn't understand about their complicated caste
system, but I DID understand the prejudice concerning
skin color even among religious and economic equals.
It's the same in America, only now it's become
subtler. Women: now that's an issue. Although somewhat
more equal and better in the educated and more
affluent of society, they are still second-class
citizens. As for children, being the lowest in the
food chain right down there with the family's
possessions, their seemingly nonexistent rights were
constantly being trampled underfoot.
I began to think about how all corporations, large and
small, have implemented equal opportunity laws with
regard to hiring, salaries, and workplace etiquette…
"What if we, as a company, used the same practices in
India? Wouldn't THAT turn a few heads? It might cost
more to implement, but once in place, it could
possibly pay huge dividends in higher productivity,
quality and employee loyalty in the end. Besides,
isn't good business ethics simply good business? Hmmm,
something to consider and run by Dad."
Moving on to lighter fare, I decided that a few laps
in the pool, get loosened up and then a workout in the
gym would be more realistic and beneficial than
hulking around the house trying to scheme how to
change the world in my first move as a corporate
leader.
I changed, I did a brisk 10 laps in the pool, then
toweled myself off and headed to the gym for a few
'reps on the nautilus. After an hour-long workout and
cool down, I headed to my room and a shower.
After a refreshing shower, it was almost dusk, so I
laid out my prayer rug and began my evening prayers.
Before finishing evening prayers, because my life
would begin a new journey and direction, you know,
that uneasiness we all feel when our lives embark in a
new direction, I finished up my prayers with my du'a
supplication for guidance and reassurance from Allah:
"Oh Allah! I seek Your guidance by virtue of Your
knowledge, and I seek ability by virtue of Your power,
and I ask You of Your great bounty. You have power; I
have none. And You know; I know not. You are the
Knower of hidden things.
Oh Allah! If in Your knowledge, my journey and
endeavors in India is good for my religion, my
livelihood and my affairs, immediate and in the
future, then ordain it for me, make it easy for me,
and bless it for me. And if in Your knowledge, these
endeavors and the course of my life because of these
endeavors is bad for my religion, my livelihood and my
affairs, immediate and in the future, then turn it
away from me, and turn me away from it. And ordain for
me the good wherever it may be, and make me content
with it."
I felt a noticeable peace about things after I'd
finished my prayers. Calmly, and in a peaceful, more
cheerful mood, I then headed to the kitchen to
scrounge up dinner, when the phone rang. I glanced at
my watch; it's 7:05pm. If it's dad on the phone, it'll
be about 5:30am there: "Boy! He always was an early
riser." I thought shaking my head and reached for the
phone.
"Hello?"
"Hi son, I see you found your way back home
alright.
How's the old homestead?"
"Empty, but still here. Even Abby seems to have
left
me to my own devices. In a way though, it's kinda nice
to have the run of the place."
"I know what you mean. I do my best thinking in
quiet
surroundings, that's why I get up so early. Kinda
mentally plan out my daily routine and psyche myself
up, if ya know what I mean?"
"Ditto Dad. What's up, anything in particular, or
just
calling to shoot the breeze at extravagant rates?"
"Well, I not only called to say hi, but also to
talk a
little about something in particular that I haven't
yet wrapped my head around. Do you remember meeting
that Indian government official at an Indian embassy
dinner in Washington DC last year? You know, the
Muslim man you spoke with at great length shortly
after you converted to Islam?"
"Oh yeah, I remember… a Mr. Haaseem, I think."
"Yeah, that's him. Adib Haaseem. Since then, he's
become an invaluable close personal friend and
business ally. He works in the Indian Office for
Foreign Business Affairs, and he's the only one I've
met that can cut through all the bureaucratic bullshit
and corruption to get me all the licenses, permits and
approvals to get and keep things moving here in India
and for our upcoming expanding facilities.
He's an honest and trustworthy man who's never asked
for a bribe or perk of any kind. Anyway, he's known
about you coming here to India to take things over and
we met in my office yesterday for quite a while
discussing the upcoming events.
At first, we spoke strictly of business matters, and
he made the suggestion that since you had to acclimate
yourself with your new surroundings: you know
geography, culture, food, and things like that… Well,
he suggested that I give you a couple of months to get
your feet planted. He even pointed out that Ramadan
would be coming up in a couple of months after you
arrive noting Muslim practice here in India is more
strictly observed and practiced than in the U.S. I
thought about it for a moment, and agreed that his was
probably a good observation, and that you'd adjust
better without the pressure of having to "jump right
into the fire" so to speak. I agreed with him that a
little time with the cultural learning curve was
indeed a sound move.
But then, the conversation took a different tone. He
became more reserved… almost humble and turned to what
he called "a matter close to his heart." I can usually
read a man by his eyes, and his are usually bright,
clear and open, but all of a sudden, I couldn't really
get a good feel for his mindset. He then looked me
right in the eyes, more softly and said that he'd
never asked a personal or professional favor of any
kind before and that he deeply valued our friendship.
He asked me if I would be willing to arrange a meeting
with you for a personal matter close to his heart, not
business."
"What did you say to that, Dad? How am I supposed
to
help him with a personal problem when we've only
spoken once? I don't really know the man."
"That's what I was thinking, so I asked him 'what
kind
of personal matter?'" but he replied, that if he told
me, would I agree not to disclose the nature of the
matter to you before you two met. I told him that I
didn't feel right in arranging a meeting on a matter
that obviously was of great importance to him without
giving you at least some idea of what he and you were
to discuss.
"Thanks for watching my back."
"No problem. What's a Dad for? Anyway, Here's the
kicker, son. He then looked straight at me, and it
looked almost like he had tears in his eyes, and said,
"I would like for Sean to meet my daughter, Sarah"
"WHAT? Did he really say that?"
"Yeah. At first, I didn't fully understand what he
was
really trying to say, I simply laughed and said, "Is
THAT all? Sure! We can have you and the family over
for dinner one night and he can meet the whole family!
It is a little strange that we haven't done it sooner.
I still haven't met your wife and daughters."
He shook his head slightly and told me, "You don't
fully
understand what I have asked. I would like to ask Sean
if we," At THAT I thought 'we?' "Could introduce the
two of them so that they may, how do you say, 'get to
know each other'. It would also give your family and
mine a chance to meet and get better acquainted." I
was astonished! I said to Adib "If I'm not mistaken,
you've just asked me to help you begin arrangements
for my son to marry your daughter: is that what your
asking me?"
"That's exactly what he's trying to say, Dad."
"Are you positive? Listen. He then sat back in his
chair saying, "It's more like an… introduction. I am
not asking for anything more than that they meet, and
that we all meet as two families in a social setting.
If he and Sarah express a 'mutual interest' at the end
of the evening to get to know each other better, then
they can agree to spend more time together to become
better acquainted. If either Sean or Sarah feel that
they aren't interested- for whatever reason, then
their meeting is nothing more than two families having
a sociable dinner. Again, I'm not asking for anything
more than for the two of them to be introduced to each
other and talk. It's neither my intent nor desire to
force my daughter or your son into something that
either of them do not want or are uncomfortable with.
My only request of Sean is that he and Sarah meet:
nothing more."
"Dad…"
"I still couldn't believe what 'my friend' had just
asked me."
"Daad?"
"Stop interrupting! Let me finish! So I asked him,
"Why Sean? Why now? I don't keep track of his personal
life, and I'd never try to 'suggest' to my son whom he
should or shouldn't meet: it's just not in our culture
to do these things. He's a grown man, and free to make
these decisions on his own. So, I again ask you: why
Sean?
Adib went on to tell me, "For several reasons.
First,
they are both Muslim, BUT…" and with this he raised an
eyebrow and continued, "Muslims with similar interests
in life: they're both academically advanced, both
being of a higher IQ, although she's not to the degree
as Sean, and advanced in studies above their peers,
along with the some of the same insecurities that go
along with that. Sean is an honest man who has shown
to be in control of himself, of amiable temperament
and with an open mind. He is also helpful and
understanding with a gentleness beneath his outward
confidence."
A little shocked, because it appeared that he was
speaking about my son with the intimate knowledge of a
close friend or someone who'd spent a lot of time with
you, so I cautiously asked him, "How do you know so
much about Sean?" Adib went on to tell me, "I was
impressed very much at our first meeting and
conversation, and I have, of my own confession,
'followed his progress' since then."
I figured that I'd heard enough for the moment, and
told him, "I'm a little taken back by your admission
of having 'followed Sean's progress,' and I'm not
quite sure what that means, but I cannot and will not
give you any assurance that Sean will meet with you on
this topic or even agree to your request. Even if,
after approaching him, he chooses not to, will this
impede any further relationship with me, my son or
future business dealings?"
Adib warmly smiled saying, "My dear friend, our friendship will certainly endure, as will my admiration of you and Sean. I
will respect
Sean's decision either way. I've done what I feel is
my duty as a father and have made my request known for
consideration. If it's the will of Allah, it shall all
come to pass. I will take my leave for now, good
friend. May the peace of Allah be upon you and yours
always." All right. Now you can give me your take on
the matter and say your piece."
"Dad…" I began, as I tried to string facts and
get my
thoughts together, "Yes, I'm a Muslim, but a rather
new convert to the faith and not fully versed on all
of the workings of certain aspects of the faith: one
of those is namely, courtship and marriage. If my
understanding of some of what I've heard from other
Muslims is true, they don't 'date': not like
westerners think of dating.
The parents are the primary catalyst for the marriages
of their children
both men and women, and most children won't marry
someone their parents don't approve of. Parents select
potential spouses for their children based on criteria
other than physical attraction. Namely, attributes of
faith, education, personality traits, social standing
and status, and things like that. Kinda like these new
online dating services that advertise 'compatibility'
profiles. Any way, after the parents select a suitable
suitor, they approach his or her parents to arrange an
'introduction.' This is all done in a closely
controlled and chaperoned environment. To the parents,
physical attraction is NOT a consideration, but a plus
and use it to get the couple to want to know more
about each other, but its not necessary because
primary attention is given to whether they both like
each other's qualities as a lifetime partner to ensure
a life long marriage.
This is what should decide whether or not the couple
actually does marry. Both
parties, meaning the potential couple, must agree and
consent to a 'courtship' and mutual consent to marry
each other or the marriage is declared invalid. I
really do believe Dad that devout Muslims don't force
their children to marry against their will. From what
I've just told you about my understanding of Muslim
courtship, Mr. Adib Haaseem is politely asking me to
consider his daughter for marriage, going through you,
the head of the family, as is the custom. Does this
make sense to you, Dad?"
Silence…
"Dad?"
Still more silence…
"Dad? Are you there?"
"Yes son, I'm still here, just totally shocked: un-
fucking-believably shocked as a matter of fact. Aren't
you? Damn! What now? They don't teach THIS shit at
Princeton business school!"
"Well Dad, I'm not sure why I'm not shocked: quite
surprised as to why me and the timing, but not
shocked. That's probably why he engineered you into
that 'cultural learning curve' idea, with a detour to
get to know his daughter. Don't get me wrong I agree
with the learning curve idea, but it's also a win/win
situation for him. He didn't exactly lie to you about
the arranged marriage part, he just redirected the
conversation. Let me ask you Dad, just how good a
friend is he? How sincere do you think his motives
are?"
"I feel he was truly sincere and to answer your
question, he's a very close and steadfast friend.
That's why I'm so floored by this: I thought I really
knew him better than that. I never saw it coming. How
could he do this to me?"
"My first adult glimpse of fallibility in my father! I
think he truly believes he's doing the right thing for
his daughter and family. That motivation makes people
do strange things sometimes. Well then, just for the
sake of conversation, what would it hurt to simply
meet the girl, what's her name? Oh yeah, Sarah. The
least that can happen is that we have a nice sociable
dinner together, I meet her, and that's that. The
'worst' that could happen, is that I get swept off my
feet. Ha, Ha! But then again, do you think that the
tension around the 'unspoken event' wouldn't make for
a reasonably comfortable setting for both our
families?"
"I can tell you this son, all eyes and ears would
certainly be, either directly or indirectly, on the
two of you with every gesture, expression and word
scrutinized and analyzed! I was so floored by the
conversation that I didn't even get any info regarding
his daughter: ya know? What she looks like, age all
that other stuff."
"He probably wouldn't have given you much anyway.
Like
I said, they're more concerned about the qualities
that make a good spouse, not the physical aspect. Dad?
Do you believe in love at first sight?"
"I certainly do, but I also believe that even
though
it happens a lot, it's not a common thing — not true
love anyway."
"So what are the odds? A thousand-to-one? A
million-
to-one? I say we play the odds and accept his request,
we make a dear friend happy, and leave it at that. You
always told me I needed to adapt to ever changing
circumstances. I'll meet many more people under
strange situations before my life is over. Why shy
away from it from the start?"
"It's up to you son, I'm not going to tell you yes
or
no. Yes, he's my good friend, but you're a man, and
it's your decision whether this is the right thing to
do or not."
"Tell you what. I'll pray about the situation, and
think it over. I'll be leaving day after tomorrow and
I'll give you my decision when I get there. How's that
sound to you? Make sense?"
"Makes good sense to me, son. Whether you pray to
Jesus or to Allah, praying to God never hurt any man's
cause."
"Good. Now, how's Mom: does she like it
there?"
"Mom's fine. She's having a great time! Spends most
of
her time sightseeing and spending a lot of my money of
Indian art objects. Son, do you want me to…"
"Yeah Dad, tell her about it. She needs to know. If
it
happens, she'll be as much involved as everyone else
in the room. Besides, I'd kinda like to hear what her
take is on all of this."
"Yeah, OK son. I can hear her now. She'll have a
golden cow! By the way, I'm sure I've got your flight
information somewhere, or my secretary does, but give
me a call before you take off with the your arrival
time and flight number will ya?
"Sure Dad. And Dad? Don't worry about this too
much.
Like he said, it's all in Allah's hands. If it's
ordained to happen, it will. Tell Mom I love her, and
may the peace of Allah reassure your heart and hers. I
love you Dad."
I love you too son, God bless, and I'll talk to you
tomorrow. Bye now."
"Bye Dad."
I hung up the phone, and then turned to resume my task
of making myself some dinner. As I took out some
veggies and began to dice them up for a quick stew, I
began to mull over the strange conversation I'd just
had with my Dad. I wondered, "Why?' Behind every
action is a motive. What was Adib's motive? Was it
simply to arrange a marriage for his daughter because
he truly felt I was a good candidate? Was it power? He
seems to have plenty in the Indian government. Was it
money? Getting a daughter married to a wealthy
American definitely has its advantages, and maybe
using this as leverage for yet other motives.
He has definitely proven himself a cunning, patient man:
he
sure stood Dad on his ear and that's pretty hard to
do!" I decided to follow the route of my potential
adversary: with patience and cunning. I'll meet with
Mr. Haaseem, and try and use this 'matter close to his
heart' as a pry bar to try and see what was under his
proverbial rock. With that, I piled all the veggies in
the pot, set it to boil, then decided to check out
what's on the tube. Finding nothing worthwhile on TV,
I decided to eat and hit the sack early.
I awoke with a start when the alarm went off at 6am. I
lay there for a minute until my head cleared enough to
focus, and then started to move. Groggily, I rolled
out of bed and headed to the bathroom for my morning
ritual of relief, shower and shave, then got dressed
for morning prayers.
At the conclusion of my morning prayers, I repeated
the du'a I had made the evening before, again asking
for guidance about things and events associated with
my move to India. Again, when I'd finished I felt a
strange calm about everything. I cautiously thought to
myself, "Either Allah IS in total control, or I'm a
fool walking into the lion's den…" Feeling the pangs
in my stomach, I headed down to the kitchen for
something to eat.
Abby, right on time like the old days, was setting a
plate of eggs and home fries on the table with her
usually cheery "Hi, sleepy head!"
I smile and look at her for a moment with a sudden
fond remembrance and reply, "You're always there for
me aren't you?"
"Always am, always will be. Look sweetie, I hate to
cut you short," talking while removing her apron, "but
I've got a lot of things to do today, so I better get
an early start, so if you don't need anything else,
I'm off. Oh by the way, there's a fresh pot of coffee
on the counter. Bye, love ya, see you later."
I sat holding my fork, grinned and shook my head and
said, "Love you too, see you late…r." She was already
out the door.
My day was pretty much preplanned, namely, packing and
getting ready for my flight to New Delhi early the
next morning.
I did several loads of laundry: underwear, socks and a
lot of casual stuff, folded it and got it packed. I'd
get a laundry service over there to iron what I wanted
later. Thankfully, Abby sent a couple of my favorite
suits to the cleaners and they were hanging in the
laundry room along with a couple of light weight suits
I had ordered online, ready to pack.
With the majority of my packing finished, except for
some minor last minute things, I said my evening
prayers, ate a friendly dinner with Abby, discussing
my future plans, then decided to call Dad with my
flight arrangements before turning in.
Dialing my Dad's number, the phone rang three times
when a woman answered, "Hello? Michael's residence."
I asked for my Dad, and the voice on the other end
responded for me to please wait a moment.
"Sean? Good to hear from ya again. Are ya packed
and
ready to go?
“Yeah, Dad, just a few last minute things to put
together. I called to give you my flight info. I'm
flying Northwest, but the last leg is handled by KLM.
I take off from BWI at 7:30am tomorrow, and land in
New Delhi on Sunday evening at 10:30pm with an
overnight layover in Amsterdam on Saturday. My flight
number is 2345. I hope the late hour doesn't pose any
real problem for you."
“No problem, son. Mom and I'll be there to pick you up.
Any last minute jitters?"
“Nah, Dad, it's just I hate those long flights. In a
way though, it'll be a good thing: give me some time
to think, ya know?"
“Well, not to rehash to same thing over again, I'd say
you've got some thinking to do."
"It won't be that big a deal, Dad. Like I said,
don't
worry about it too much. Everything will work out
fine."
That remains to be seen. Well, I'll let you go to get
some rest for the big trek tomorrow. We'll see you at
the airport, OK son?"
"Sure, Dad. See you Sunday night. Love you, tell
Mom I
love her too, and let the peace of Allah reassure
yours and Mom's hearts."
"See ya, son, we both love you too. Have a safe
trip.
Bye, now."
"Bye Dad."
With that, I went to bed.
Continued in Chapter 2…
|
|